


Sunkissed

by bookjunkiecat



Series: Five [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, DO NOT READ AND SHITPOST ME IF YOU DON'T CARE FOR POLY, Did I mention this is polyamory?, Established Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Outdoor Sex, Polyamory, Rimming, Shared Home, That being said...., Threesome, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, drinking wine and lounging in the sun, poly union, soft smut, threeway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Alia, Greg and Mycroft have a rare day off together and spend it lounging in the sunny garden, drinking rosé and enjoying a perfect day. It's made more perfect when they indulge in a little sensual play.
Relationships: Mycroft/Greg/OFC, Mystrade - Relationship
Series: Five [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563082
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: Geometry





	Sunkissed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phoenixrising2014](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixrising2014/gifts).



> My warmest thanks to Pufflelock for her beta. Love you, Puffle <3

The three of them had capped off a perfectly beautiful weekend--not one single professional call upon their time!--with a lazy Sunday afternoon of drinking. Greg dragged loungers out into the secluded garden, Alia set her iPod up with the outside speakers and Mycroft fetched a chilled bottle of Sangiovese rosé and three white wine glasses. Alia and Greg both put on a bit of sun-cream and their sunnies and stretched out, intent on soaking up as much of the pleasant weather as possible. 

Mycroft, who feared sunning himself into “one large freckle,” applied a much more judicious coating of high-spf sun block and donned not only his sunglasses but a straw hat. Most of him was in the cerulean shade of a blue Chinese Wisteria, but his elegant unshod feet were crossed at the ankle and becoming sun-kissed. 

Greg, headed into the kitchen and fetched them all cold water to refresh their palates after two bottles of wine, stopped to press a tender kiss to Mycroft’s instep. Smiling foolishly, Alia rolled over onto her stomach, propping her head on her hands, eyes fondly tracking Mycroft's relaxed features. “You look happy, love.”

“I am,” Mycroft assured her, reaching out to lay a tender hand on her sun-warmed hair. Her eyes slitted like a cat being petted she all but leaned into his touch. “I’d be happier with you closer, however.”

Returning a few minutes later, Greg found his loves snuggled in Mycroft’s lounger, Alia’s floral skirt halfway up her thighs, as Mycroft stroked her legs. Greg’s steps faltered momentarily before he quickened his pace. Alia was on Mycroft’s lap, her back to his chest, arms up over her head, looped around Mycroft’s neck, fingers threaded through his untamed hair. Her head was turned as they traded lazy kisses. Greg set down the waters he’d brought with him and drank in the sight of them instead. Violet-filtered light dappled the pair, who were absorbed in one another, eyes closed, kissing with soft passion and familiarity. Mycroft opened his eyes and saw Greg; when he smiled against Lia’s mouth she opened her own eyes languidly. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” Greg said hoarsely, dropping to one knee next to them. Alia reached for him, and he captured her hand, kissing the palm with an open mouth, sucking her fingers into his mouth slowly. One of Mycroft’s hands caressed his face, sliding into his hair and bringing Greg closer. He braced his free hand on the far side of the lounger and leaned in, trading kisses with them in turn. 

Alia sighed, tasting the acid-bright green melon bitterness on Greg’s tongue, softened by hints of peach. “Mm,” she purred, “Greg tastes wonderful with rosé, don’t you think, My?”

Mycroft breathed a soft laugh, stirring the damp hair at her temple, and trailed his lips down her blood-warm skin, his hands tightening in the material of her skirt. “To be fair, you both taste wonderful unaided by any wine, but yes, he pairs well.”

Eyes drifting shut as he closed his teeth delicately on the tendon in her shoulder, Alia lifted her head again to Greg, silently asking for a kiss. He was eager to give it to her, pressing her back slightly into Mycroft with his enthusiasm. Mycroft all too willingly leaned back, accepting the weight of them both, reaching his long arms around as much of the two of them as he could.

The air was soft and still under the drooping blossoms, only the faint sound of traffic and bee-song leavening the silence. Greg and Mycroft’s hands met and tangled under Alia’s skirt, finding the tiny lace at the edge of her knickers and teasing slowly with glancing touches. She moaned, legs moving restlessly. “Shall we move this inside?” Greg asked.

Alia shook her head, and Mycroft echoed her, so Greg rucked her skirt up higher, bending to press kisses to her tummy. The swipe of his tongue in her belly button garnered him breathless laughter, and he grinned at her, winking at Mycroft, who was nibbling delicately on her neck. His hands preceded his lips, pushing the cap sleeves and wide neckline of her dress down her shoulders. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he gently squeezed, pressing upward, thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples through the summer-weight cotton. Greg leaned in, tracing her cleavage with his tongue. 

“...please…” Lia sighed, to no one in particular. She bent one leg at the knee, planting her foot to the outside of Mycroft’s knee. He obligingly pulled her skirt further out of the way, smoothing his palm down the inside of her thigh, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. As his fingers rubbed her lightly through the thin, silky material of her knickers, Greg eased her bodice down under her breasts, freeing her nipples. 

She moaned softly as Greg sucked tenderly on her nipple, scraping lightly with his teeth, raising a shiver. Her shiver deepened, as did her moans, when Mycroft eased his hand into her knickers, stroking softly at her lips, dipping a gentle finger into her slick folds. Gasping wordlessly she arched, needing to get closer. Greg hummed around her nipple. She buried her fingers in Mycroft’s hair, head tipping back. Pressing her face in Mycroft’s neck, Alia lay suspended between her lovers, rocked in a hammock of love-soaked passion. As Greg pulled away from her left nipple, moving to nip and lick the other, her skin pebbled tightly from the air on her wet flesh.

Mycroft, tenderly sucking kisses on her shoulder, kept his fingers moving slickly inside her, as with the other hand he cupped her breast, lightly thumbing her recently abandoned nipple. Alia tightened her grip on Mycroft’s hair and relished his low growl at the tug of her fingers. He tightened his own grasp on her breast, and she murmured approvingly. He was a gentle and considerate lover, never in a rush, which she adored. Sometimes, however, he acted with more strength and eagerness than was his wont, which always inflamed her own desire.

“Wanna touch you,” she murmured, and Greg shifted, freeing himself from his trousers. Wrapping eager fingers around his erection, she stroked him, turning her head to kiss first Greg and then Mycroft. Mycroft swiped his tongue over her lips, seeking entry, and scissored his fingers over her clit. Gasping, she stiffened, pleasure arcing through her. As her head fell back on his shoulder, her hand clutched desperately at Greg, who groaned, and sucked hard on her nipple as his hand found her, two thick fingers slowly thrusting into her as Mycroft played with her clit. The smooth pads of his fingers slipped over her, bringing Alia closer to orgasm, and her grip on both her men tightened, desperate for release. 

She sang out hoarsely, sobbing softly, open-mouthed, as she came. Greg groaned low and deep at the sound, and he came in response, shuddering as her palm--slickened by his release--rubbed over his sensitive flesh. Stilling her hand, he withdrew his own fingers, coaxing a weak sigh from her. Mycroft murmured approvingly, stroking them both as they came down, until they recalled themselves. Alia arched her back, turning her head to meet his eyes, “Sweetheart?”

“Gods, the two of you…” he kissed her hungrily, and she wiggled a little, trying to reach him. His erection strained against her back, silently begging for attention. Greg met her eyes with a knowing smile. Lifting her effortlessly, Greg helped her stand. 

“Switch places with our princess,” Greg urged, and Mycroft stood with unsteady legs. Alia lay back, holding out her arms. Pulling him close, Alia sighed as he lined up and slid inside her, both of them stilling for a moment at the perfect glide. “Oh yeah,” Greg praised, sliding loving hands down Mycroft’s back and shifting so he could kiss his way down his spine. He winked at Alia over Mycroft’s shoulder before he disappeared from sight. 

They kissed hungrily as Mycroft moved in her with slow, luxurious movements. Alia dug her fingers into his back, shivering as Greg’s wandering hands trailed over her skin, then disappeared to caress Mycroft. The unexpected pattern of touches was ramping up her own returning desire, and she sank her teeth into Mycroft’s shoulder as he began to sweat, moving more eagerly. He groaned loudly when Greg reached the base of his spine and parted his cheeks, delving between them with a passionate swipe of his tongue. “Fuck…”

Greg murmured wordless encouragement, and Alia ducked her head, laving Mycroft’s nipple with her tongue before she grazed it with the edge of her teeth. He gasped, pressing more deeply inside her, spurring an answering moan from her. He groaned raggedly, pressing forward into the hungry heat of her body and then back into the rapacious thrust of Greg’s tongue, chasing his own pleasure. “Come for me, darling,” Alia breathed, watching his eyes go hazy with his impending climax, and he shook hard, thrusting erratically before he stilled, pressing deep inside her as he came. His eyes were locked on hers, his mouth hanging open as a low groan rumbled in his chest like distant thunder. 

Dripping sweat, Mycroft collapsed into her waiting arms, and she held tightly onto him, rocking her pelvis against his until she came again. In a damp daze they lay breathing deeply, shifting a bit as Greg crawled up into the lounge with them, curling himself around their entwined forms. While their search for capacious lawn furniture hadn’t been with this scenario specifically in mind, it also hadn’t been an impossibility. Alia closed her eyes, smiling, and buried her fingers in Greg’s hair as he pressed sleepy kisses to her shoulder. Eventually they would move inside, to the comfort of a bed. But for now this was perfect.


End file.
